Starvation
by Purple.Slippers.18
Summary: There was a deeper well inside of the brothers, a desperation to rise above the lot life had tossed at them, a yearning to prove themselves as young men…a raw starvation to live.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or Legend of Korra, although I am seriously considering kidnapping Mako and Bolin ;)_

**A/N:**_ Well, here's another one everybody, and along the same lines as _**Lifetimes**_, it's kinda angsty and a bit dramatic, but hey, I promise it has a happy ending, so that should make it all better right? Anyway, I want to dedicate this fic to those awesome fans at Korranation and the hard work they put in to unlocking the premiere episodes of Korra. I know that took alot of hard work and dedication, and that some setbacks might have been discouraging, but you did it! I think the Avatar fandom is one of the most loyal, obsessive, if somewhat crazy but in all the awesome ways, fandoms out there. So I just wanted to congratulate you. Now, on with the fic._

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>Starvation<strong>

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Sometimes it was too easy, Mako thought, slipping deft fingers into the breast pocket of an overcoat that had been thrown carelessly on the bleachers. He brushed against a string, hearing the telltale jingle of coins. He moved quickly, hoping no one had seen or heard him as he picked the pocket clean and moved on, loosing himself in the crowd. It was a packed house in the pro-bending arena, the stadium full to standing room only, the roar of the fans louder than a train, and the sheer number of people making it very easy for a certain street rat to try and make a little money, even if it was illegal.

Staring at the coins he had just stolen, Mako let the guilt attack him. He hated himself, but times were tough at the moment. All the money he had managed to earn last month was spent on medicine for Bolin when he'd had a very bad cough, and even though he had recovered there was still a raspy quality to his breathing that worried Mako. At fifteen, there were very few ways Mako could earn enough money to keep he and his little brother clothed, fed, sheltered and healthy all at the same time. This month, things were tight. There was no food, and hadn't been for four days. So, out of sheer desperation, Mako had decided that picking the pockets of the distracted crowd at the pro-bending final championship was the only option he had.

Looking down at the yuans he had just procured, the bronze coins laying lazily in his palm, a string looping through the square holes in the center of the money so as to keep it all together, Mako decided that, while he hated himself for what he was doing, he loved his brother more. He closed his fingers over the currency, let the weight of the coins burn into his skin, and then he put them in his pocket with the other pieces of change he'd stolen, and moved on.

"What an amazing turn of events!" the rapid rolling rhythm of the bending announcer exclaimed, his bodiless voice reverberating in the large chamber. "In the final round, the Tigerdilos have advanced on Jackolope territory, knocking Kim and Quon off the edge, leaving Houjin cornered in the blue third zone, but Houjin sends a powerful jab at Hideki and…he's out! Hideki is out of the ring! Guess he couldn't stand up to Houjin's fire."

The crowed went wild, the spectators jumping up and down, cheering and jeering at the latest development. Unable to help himself, Mako stood up on a bench and looked down into the arena, letting out a whoop when Houjin knocked another of the Tigerdilos, the earthbender, over the edge. The Tigerdilos' waterbender, Tung, had been pushed back into the red first level, a bit dazed, but otherwise ready to fight for the championship.

"Houjin advances on Tung. This is it, folks, water and fire, which element is stronger? Which bender is best? There's gonna be steam tonight! Tung lashes out with a water whip…Houjin is hit but not out. Tung tries again…Houjin dodges, and…ladies and gentlemen I don't believe it!"

Mako cheered, his voice one amongst hundreds, the sheer sound of the mob feeling as if it was shaking the walls of the bending arena.

"Tung is out! The Jackolopes win the championship! I repeat, Tung is out of the ring! The Tigerdilos are out! Jackolopes win! Jackolopes win!"

Madness erupted. Fans screamed and cursed, praising the Jackolopes and booing them, lamenting the Tigerdilos and demanding a rematch. Everyone stood up in their seats, voices mingling together like an explosion of flailing arms, team banners, spit and sweat, outrage and euphoric victory. Mako kept his eyes trained on Houjin, the Jackolopes' firebender. The young man had removed his helmet and was standing in the middle of the ring, arms held over his head, waving to the crowd and waiting for his teammates to join him in the winner's circle. The fifteen year old had always loved the pro-bending tournaments. When the season was in high gear, his father used to take him and Bolin to the games every week, letting the boys take turns sitting on his shoulders so that they could watch the action. Mako had been enthralled, dreaming of the day he might be able to bend fire like some of his favorite players…players like Houjin.

But that was all just a child's fantasy.

His father was dead. His mother was dead. For the last eight years Mako had more important things to worry about than his firebending, namely his little brother and where their next meal was coming from.

When a firebending Jackolope fan started blasting triumphant flames in the air, encouraging the wrath of a group of staunch Tigerdilo supporters, it was as if the explosion of the mob turned in on itself. Knowing a fight in the making when he saw one, Mako decided it was best to leave. It was late, and Bolin was probably bored stiff having to wait at the exit. Mako hadn't wanted his brother coming with him into the arena, ashamed to let the thirteen year old see him steal. So he'd given Bolin reconnaissance duty, having him guard their escape path. Weaving out of the mob, feeling the negative energy and sense of oncoming disaster, the fifteen year old slipped out of the arena, maneuvering down a dimly lit and little used backdoor exit. When he stepped out into the night, it was cold. Blowing a small puff of fire into his palms, Make adjusted his scarf and looked for his brother, hoping the thirteen year old hadn't wandered off again like he was so prone to do.

"Bolin?"

"Mako!"

Even the chill in the air couldn't freeze Mako's blood like the sound of his brother's strained and frightened voice. He turned to the left and did his best to keep his features impassive, even though all he wanted to do burn the five older boys holding Bolin.

They were older teenagers, maybe even in their early twenties. One was tall, towering over all the others by at least a foot. Another was short and stocky with dark circles under his eyes. There was one who was taking a drag off a cigarette, the thin blue smoke rushing out of his nostrils and hovering menacingly over his face like a mask. The one beside the smoker had long oily hair that looked like it hadn't known soap in months. And the one holding Bolin had a scraggly goatee. They flanked Bolin, holding him by the scruff of the neck like he was an animal.

"Let my brother go," Mako warned, his fingertips smoking, palms chaffing with the nearly uncontrollable heat his chi was pulsing.

"Not so fast," the one with the goatee tutted. "We caught this little scamp stealing our food."

"It wasn't yours!" Bolin argued as he struggled, locking eyes with his brother. "It was just the scraps in the garbage from a stupid noodle house over there."

"That noodle house in our territory, you little wise guy," the tallest in the group sneered. Mako felt his lip curl, angry at the gang threatening his brother and at himself for not being a better provider and keeping Bolin better fed. Now, he and his brother were facing down a posse of drugstore genin, and it was five against two. The odds weren't good.

"When we asked the urchin if he had any money to pay for what he'd _stolen_," the oily boy drawled, his tone dark and menacing, "he told us his big brother was in the arena picking berries."

Mako shot Bolin a horrified look, his hand coming to rest on his pocket where he'd stored the yuans. It was all the money he had until who knows when. He couldn't give it up.

"Cut the garbage. Are we gonna stay here and beat our gums all night, or are you gonna give us what we want?" the goateed teenager rough handling Bolin demanded, his tone irritated, his body tense and jumpy. There was a slightly crazed look in his eyes, one Mako had occasionally recognized in his own. The guy was starving, probably hadn't eaten in a week or more, which made him all the more dangerous.

"I'm sorry, Mako. I was just hungry," Bolin cried, his lower lip trembling.

"Shut up!"

The stocky one punched Bolin in the gut and that's when Mako attacked. He went into defender mode, bending the flames he'd formed in his hands to lash out, first at the one who was holding Bolin, then at the one who had punched him.

"Shit, he's a bender!" the one with the cigarette cried out, ducking away from the flames as the one holding Bolin let him go.

"Do it, Bolin!" Mako yelled, swinging into a roundhouse kick at the tallest boy, hoping to hit him in the neck and knock him over, but he missed and was thrown to the ground. Laughing, the tall teen and the smoker were about to pummel Mako when a block of earth extended so violently out of the ground that Mako heard the tall thug's jaw break, blood and broken teeth spilling out of his mouth as he screamed in pain. The smoker's own jaw dropped in surprise, his cigarette falling to the ground as he turned and ran away, his oily haired friend at his heels. Scurrying to his feet, Mako threw a punch at the shorter teen, bending fire out of the heel of his palm, scorching the boy's coat. Bolin had his brother's back, using his earthbending to throw rocks at the thug.

"Bender filth!"

The one with the goatee hurled himself into Mako, knocking the firebender hard to the ground. Mako hit his head, disoriented only for a moment, but that was all the thug needed. He punched Mako in the face, barely missing his nose, before digging in the boy's pockets. Mako struggled, bending fire into his hands, trying to burn the teenager on top of him, to stop him from taking the yuans.

But if hunger did anything, it fed desperation.

The goateed teen was insane, not seeing Mako at all, only the money that would buy him a meal. The older teen ignored the burns, the smell of his scorched skin, his eyes glazed over with madness when his red and bleeding fingers closed over the yuans in Mako's pocket.

"No!" Mako screamed, making a fierce grab for the coins.

"Mako!"

Bolin bent a crude block of dirt at the teen that was holding down his brother, hitting him in the shoulders.

"Hey! What's going on over there!"

The sound of whistles ended the fight as effectively as the pro-bending round buzzer.

"Coppers!" the little one cried.

"Scram!" another ordered. Before Mako was back on his feet, Bolin having to help him regain his balance, the remaining thugs had run off and there were two police officers rushing in their direction.

Mako panicked.

He couldn't let himself and Bolin get caught. Even if they weren't put in jail because they were juveniles, they might be placed in the work houses or worse, they'd be sent to an orphanage and get separated.

"Mako, what do we do?" Bolin asked.

"I don't know. Let me think."

"In here, boys!"

The brothers looked up, surprised by the rough voice that called to them. There was an old man standing in the frame of the exit Mako had come from, his stocky build intimidating, the lines of his haggard face deep. They had no idea who this man was, or why he was holding the door open for them, urging for them to rush inside the safety of the bending arena, but there was no time to be cautious. Mako pushed Bolin ahead of him, slipping under the old man's arm and into the darkness of the tunnel. The two young teenagers hid in the shadows.

"You!" one of the officers called. Mako and Bolin tensed, holding their breaths as the old man stood in the doorway, his girth further camouflaging them.

"What's the trouble, officer?"

"Did you see that fight?"

"Well, you bet I did," the old man exclaimed heartily. "Those damn Tigerdilos cost me two hundred yuan. The Jackalopes wouldn't have been able to get the jump on them if Tung didn't get so cocky when he took their second zone."

"Not that fight!" the cop barked in frustration.

"There was another one?" Toza asked dumbly.

"Right there, you blind old fool! A street fight, some benders, could be members of the Triad. Didn't some come running this way?"

"No one came running 'round here."

"And what are you doing out here tonight, sir?" the second officer asked haughtily.

"Oh, just taking the ol' leg for a stretch." The man patted the brace on his left leg, smirking victoriously at the horrified expression that crossed one officer's face, a mortified blush staining his partner's. People never ceased to disappoint him, especially with their unwanted pity for the disabled.

"Good evening," the older of the officers said, nodding his head respectfully and urging his partner along, making their way out into the night. The old man scoffed at the pair, shaking his head before closing the door and turning back inside the arena. He walked past the boys, noting how the older one stood defensively in front of the younger.

"Well, come on," he ordered, limping down the hall. When he didn't hear footfalls behind him, he turned around, noting the untrusting glare the firebending teenager had trained on him. "Spirits, I ain't gonna hurt you, just thought you might be hungry."

The younger one gasped, his stomach growling so loudly it echoed along the corridor. The man smirked when the boys started following him. He led them to a canteen, and after rummaging for a moment, he found four onigiri, leftovers from a day or two before. They wouldn't be missed.

"Not much of a feast, but I figure to you boys it's probably more than you've had in a while."

"Ah, thanks!" Bolin chirped, taking two onigiri and moving to sit at one of the long tables, munching contently.

Mako didn't move, warily taking in his surroundings and the old geezer that had helped them. He looked fairly ancient, his hair as grey as the uniforms of the metalbending Special Forces, and there were old scars up and down his bare arms, the raised pink flesh contrasting rather intimidatingly with his dark brown skin. Then there was the leg brace, a strange metal and leather contraption that seemed to be for the purpose of helping the old man walk, although it did cause a noticeable limp to his gait. If he and Bolin had to make a run for it, his best bet was to attack that leg.

"That was some fancy firebending you did out there," the man commended, surprising Mako. "A good roundhouse kick, too, but you're not centering yourself before you swing. That's why the guy was able to knock you down. And you shoulda focused your energy into your wrist and pushed out the fire at your knuckles, not your palm. You got a mean right hook if you do it right."

"I helped, too!" Bolin proclaimed, bits of rice and seaweed sputtering from between his lips.

"Some mighty good earthbending, too, though you don't have a lot of control."

"Hey!"

"Did you want to knock the thug out or take off his head, cuz 'you damn near did!" the man barked, startling the children. "And eat with your mouth shut! You're not a hog-monkey."

"Don't talk to my brother like that, old man!" Mako commanded, stepping between the man and Bolin.

"Name's, Toza," the man rumbled, "and you'll be calling me coach if you know what's good for 'ya."

"Coach?" Bolin parroted, making sure to swallow his mouthful before speaking.

"Toza? _The_ Toza…but…you…you were a pro-bender, leader of the Boarcupines. I saw your last game," Mako stated, remembering sneaking into the bending arena that night, just wanting to escape from the storm he'd got caught in and getting treated to one of the best pro-bending matches he'd ever seen. Toza was one of the most elite players in the city and he was sitting right in front of him. Mako's dark honeyed eyes widened. He was shocked dumb for just a moment at finding himself standing before one of the greats, until he finally remembered himself and returned to his serious stance.

Toza smiled, feeling a bit of pride at a young kid's hero worship for the first time in years.

"So, are you gonna teach us how to bend?" Bolin wondered.

"I saw you fight those ruffians. You boys know how do bend, you just don't know how to fight."

"We've been fighting just fine without you," Mako said defiantly.

"And a lot of good it got you," Toza said, nodding at Mako's black eye. "Don't you wanna know how to fight? How to win?"

"Yeah," Bolin said. Mako cast his brother an annoyed glare. "Well we do," the thirteen year old argued, finishing his second rice ball.

"What about you kid?" Toza asked.

"My name's Mako."

"Well then, Mako," Toza said, holding out the last two onigiri, offering more than rice and seaweed. "Do you want some? You look hungry."

With a little trepidation, Mako edged close to the old pro-bender. He stared at the onigiri, near to panting like a dog as his stomach ached for the food. Toza could see the boy's indecision, his inner struggle with his pride and his duty to his brother. He looked back at Bolin, the thirteen year old smiling encouragingly, his green eyes sparkling, excited. It was those eyes that did Mako in.

He did his best to keep his hands from shaking as he reached for the two rice balls Toza offered, his russet colored eyes locking with the old man's, showing no fear, but also no trust. Mako took the onigiri from Toza, never turning his back on him as he moved to stand beside his brother. Only then did the fifteen year old rip into the food, eating like an abused animal, his lips smacking and tongue sweeping out to catch every grain, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Rubbing a cramp in his weak thigh, his gnarled fingers adjusting the tension of his leg brace, Toza watched the boys eat.

"Yeah, you're hungry, all right."

And not just for food. There was a deeper well inside of the brothers, a desperation to rise above the lot life had tossed at them, a yearning to prove themselves as young men…a raw starvation to live.

Since his retirement seven years ago, Toza had been flirting with the idea of coaching his own pro-bending team. But being a past champion, the old man had particular standards, none of which the newest batch of athletes had been able to fulfill.

Until these two boys.

They already knew how to fight as a unit, albeit an uncoordinated one, but that could be easily tweaked. The younger one needed the most work, his earthbending lacking focus and style, but he was powerful. The older one could be a pro. His bending was strong, but he also had a handle on the discipline of hand-to-hand combat. Smirking when Mako gave Bolin his second onigiri, ensuring his younger brother's needs were met before his own, Toza knew the kid was full of untapped potential.

It was just the sort of grit he had been looking for.

"Don't worry," he sighed, wondering if the attic of the arena was still vacant, "you stick with ol' Toza and you won't be hungry anymore."

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'_For me life is continuously being hungry. The meaning of life is not simply to exist, to survive, but to move ahead, to go up, to achieve, to conquer.'_

—_Arnold Schwarzenegger_

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><p><em>So a couple of final notes. First, writing pro-bending was NOT easy. Thanks to Bryan's video on the rules of pro-bending (you can find the link in my profile, I know the video's a bit long but it's totally worth it!) that fight scene was at least more detailed than it had been in the initial draft. Also, since the Korra setting is supposed to be a steampunk asian inspired 1920s alternate universe (I've always wanted to say that!) I decided to throw in some authentic, if somewhat tweaked, 1920s slang. Here's a short glossary on some of the terms I used:<em>

Drugstore genin_: so this is a tweak on the term 'Drugstore Cowboy', which means a guy that hangs around the street trying to pick up girls; a hoodlum; a sleazy person_

Picking Berries_: pickpocketing_

Beat our gums_: talk_

_I had a lot of fun researching these terms and I think more will be popping up in my future fics. _

_As always, thanks so much to everyone who has been following/reading my fics. I really appreciate your taking the time to give them a taste. Also, to those who have been reviewing but that I've been unable to contact personally, thank you for your encouragement. _

_If you are so inclined, please feel free to review and share your thoughts on _Starvation_. No flames, please and thank you!_


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